


Sunshine and Coffee

by EmLeeKoe



Series: Jess and Thomas's post-canon adventures [1]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Beautiful Day, Best Friends, Birds, Breakfast, Coffee, Cooking, Eating, Food, Friendship, German, Germany, Nature, Peace, Picnic, Quiet, Scars, Sunshine - Freeform, Terrace, Trauma, calm, deck, nice day, outside, porch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmLeeKoe/pseuds/EmLeeKoe
Summary: Jess and Thomas have a nice breakfast. No torture or sadness, just my boys enjoying each other's company and being adorable.
Series: Jess and Thomas's post-canon adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696276
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Sunshine and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after Sword and Pen.

The bright, white Alexandrian sun pierced through the inch-wide crack between the curtains and fell across Jess’s face. _Morning already?_ He stirred and shifted just far enough to his right that the shaft warmed his cheek without burning his eyes when he opened them. Squinting, he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before he remembered where he was, and then he had to take a deep, controlled breath and force himself to stay calm as he mentally sorted out what was happening, what danger he or his friends could be in. But no, no, it was all over. He took another deep breath, this time in relief; it sent an ache through his still-healing lungs, and he clenched his fists, waiting for the bout of coughing, the inability to breathe, the slow drowning in his own blood, then remembered he’d been cured.

Sitting up slowly, he took stock. In the light of day, his new bedroom was even more opulent than it had seemed the previous night, when Thomas had brought him to the house they’d been assigned. Jess had refused to let Thomas help him up the stairs, but Thomas had followed him closely, and Jess had felt his intense watchfulness as he waited for Jess to falter, to stumble. Jess hadn’t, but he’d had a hard job hiding how winded he was by the time he reached the top.

It was the home of a Scholar who’d died in the battle, and in her will, she’d left her home to the use of the Library; Khalila had commandeered it to house her friends. The Scholar had been well off, but had no partner or heir to inherit her home; in the end, Scholar Kenda Cording had given her all to the Library, to include her life.

His room was painted a deep blue, and the wardrobe, chest of drawers, writing desk, and bedframe were all whitewashed and made in the same style, with scrolled woodwork at the ends and corners. The bed was swathed in gold-toned satin sheets that matched the curtains, and a thick, luxuriously soft white blanket.

Tossing back the soft blanket, Jess rolled out of bed, dug his toes into the plush carpet, the same color as the sheets and curtains, then stretched, careful not to strain his chest. The muscles were exhausted and aching from all the coughing; the Medica had said his ribs might be bruised, and he shouldn’t do any heavy lifting or twisting for a while. It was good, he supposed, that the struggle was over, because he wouldn’t have listened to any medical instructions if he were needed in any capacity.

But it was over now. He still forgot, when things were quiet, that he and his friends—his _family_ —were all safe. Every time the unfamiliar peace settled around him and he began to truly relax, he found himself startling, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing, and had to run over recent events in his mind to prove to himself that yes, his friends were alright, and less importantly, he was too. He was alive, which was more than he’d expected since the Archivist’s office, and probably more than he deserved, and he still wasn’t quite sure what to do about that.

After showering in the attached washroom, he remembered that he had none of his spare clothing with him, just what he’d had on his back when he’d been permitted—begrudgingly—to leave his sickbed. He cursed under his breath as he stepped out of the washroom, the clouds of steam scented with cardamom and vanilla roiling in his wake, then noticed a clean set of clothes sitting folded atop the chest of drawers. They didn’t look familiar, but when he unfolded them, the shirt and the trousers were both his size, or at least a size adjacent to his own. He’d made do with worse, he thought as he pulled the shirt over his head, especially in his book-running days; as he smoothed the shirt down over his torso, he thought for a moment that he felt the smuggling harness underneath the light, white cotton, and the pre-run jitters twisted his stomach. But no, no, he didn’t have to do that. No one ever would again. Books were legal now. It astounded him anew every time he remembered.

When he opened the door, which glided soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, the scent of strong Egyptian coffee almost bowled him over. He felt a smile spread across his face as he descended the stairs into the tiled foyer, where the sun shone through artfully warped glass panes to either side of the doorway, creating rainbow beams that painted abstract murals on the floor.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Thomas greeted him, pouring coffee from the pot into a white porcelain mug. “I see you found the clothes I left you. Coffee’s still warm. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Jess replied, and was surprised to find that he meant it more than he had in a long time. He accepted the mug from Thomas and sipped the thick, sweet liquid; its warmth contrasted with the chill of the white marble tiles, veined with light gray, that covered the kitchen floor under his bare feet. “How are you?”

“Oh, fine, fine.” His friend’s smile was genuine as he used a pair of tongs to lift thick strips of sizzling bacon out of a frying pan, piling them on a plate. “I thought about waking you, but you needed the rest. We’re going to eat breakfast on the terrace.”

“What time is it?” Jess took the plate of bacon in his free hand.

“Almost eleven!” Thomas laughed, and it was a joyful, free sound, not the strained laugh that had so recently hidden layers upon layers of fear, uncertainty, and grief. He balanced a plate of eggs, one of orange slices, one of cornmeal muffins, and two more empty plates on a large tray, along with the butter dish. He grabbed the silverware they would need, as well as one side of the tray, in his large fist, and somehow held his own coffee mug and supported the other end of the tray without spilling anything. “Get the door, would you?”

Jess balanced the plate of bacon on top of his mug and carefully pulled one of the double glass doors open to reveal a terracotta-tiled patio, shaded by a pergola. Sunlight filtered down through the twisting, leafy vines that tangled themselves around the pergola’s wooden beams, dappling the wooden table and chairs that sat in the greenish shade. Beyond the terrace was a garden, not overly large, not overly tended, but magical in its wildness. Jess counted no less than three paths winding away from the terrace, around blooming trees and unpruned shrubs and haphazard flowerbeds. Bumblebees floated lazily from blossom to blossom, and everything seemed to glow in the hot Alexandrian sunlight. Brick walls at least six feet high bordered the garden, making it feel private and secluded even though he could see into the second-story windows of the houses behind this one, could hear the hustle and bustle of city life going on beyond the brick walls. But he didn’t mind. This place, at least, was theirs. This time was theirs, to do with what they wished, to fill with breakfast and coffee and good company.

“Thank you for this, Thomas,” Jess said, transferring two eggs onto his plate. “Everything looks wonderful.”

“I used to cook breakfast for my family on Sundays, did I ever tell you?” he replied, and smiled a bit sadly. “I miss my family, Jess. ‘ _Danke schön, Thomas. Das Frühstück ist köstlich,’_ Mother always said, even when I burned the toast.” He chuckled and shook his head, then fit an entire piece of bacon into his mouth with no effort at all and spoke around it. “I think she was just happy to have a bit of respite from cooking for all of us.”

“You could visit them,” Jess said, nabbing two slices of bacon before Thomas could finish them all.

“ _Ja,_ I could,” Thomas agreed, spreading sweet cream butter on a cornmeal muffin. “But not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

He shrugged, then put the entire muffin in his mouth, much the same as he’d done with the slice of bacon.

Jess’s brows pinched a bit in confusion, but he smiled. “It would make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“So then, why wait?”

Thomas shrugged, turning toward the back garden. “It’s so beautiful out here. Almost like a little world all our own. _Frieden ist seltsam, jetzt._ ”

“You’re avoiding the question.” Jess bit into an orange slice, and the flesh spit tiny flecks of juice on his face.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jess.” Thomas took such a long swig of coffee that Jess thought he wouldn’t say any more, and decided to drop the subject.

Finally, though, he continued. “So much has happened. We are all—none of us are the same as we used to be.” He sighed, and Jess heard the addition of _especially me_ in that sigh. “I want to be here, to be available in case anyone needs me. Wolf, Santi, Khalila, Morgan, Dario…” He shot a brief, sidelong glance at Jess, his expression unreadable. “You.”

“Thomas, we’re all fine. _I’m_ fine,” Jess insisted gently, even though he still had to be careful not to breathe too deeply, exert himself, or bend the wrong way. “Even if we weren’t, it’s not your job to take care of everyone. You should go see your family. It would make you happy. It would help you.”

His friend drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup, the size of a child’s toy in his large hand, gently on the table. “I suppose you’re right,” he finally admitted. “I’m worried, though, that I’ll be… too different, I suppose.” He seemed to shrink a little, and Jess’s heart went out to him. He knew what his friend was thinking, but didn’t say out loud—he was afraid his family would be intimidated or frightened by him, with his new scars, his sudden bursts of anger, his unpredictable moods, his flashbacks that could be violent especially if he was startled.

“They’re your family, Thomas,” he argued. “Unlike mine, they’ll love you no matter how much you change. You’re lucky.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I suppose I’m just nervous. It’s been so long, and so much has happened.”

“That’s why you need to go home,” Jess replied. “You need something familiar.”

“I would love to see them again,” Thomas sighed, tearing pieces from another muffin and tossing them to the birds in the garden.

“With the rest period Khalila ordered for all of us,” Jess added, “you have plenty of time.”

“You’re right,” Thomas repeated; turning, he met Jess’s eyes and grinned wider than Jess had seen him grin in a good while. “And you should come with me.”

“What?” Jess had to admit, the prospect of traveling to Germany was rather intriguing, and if Thomas’s family were anything like his friend, he would have a warm bed, good food, great company, and smiling faces to greet him when he arrived. But he didn’t want to infringe upon Thomas’s time with his family, and though he knew it was unreasonable, the prospect of meeting or being around parents made his chest tighten just a little. “I don’t know, Thomas.”

“Yes,” Thomas said, his excitement building until he practically vibrated. “You come with me, we have a nice, relaxing train ride through the Alps, and we spend a few weeks in Berlin with my family. They will love to meet you. I’ve been writing to them about you for so long.”

“Really?” Jess grinned despite himself. “And what have you been saying?”

“That is my business.” Thomas was suddenly on his feet, disappearing into the house; he returned with his Codex, opened it to a blank page, and scratched out a message. When he was finished, he shut the Codex and slapped it onto the table with an air of finality, as if everything was set and settled.

Despite Thomas’s arguments, Jess helped carry the dishes back into the kitchen, and as Thomas scrubbed them clean, Jess dried them and put them away. It was nice doing such a normal domestic task, let alone with his best friend. Normalcy was strange, but a good kind of strange, even though he had to continually remind himself that his friends weren’t in danger.

Thomas’s Codex buzzed with an incoming message, and he finished up the last few dishes with inhuman speed before snatching the towel from Jess’s hands and hastily drying off. He flipped his Codex open, and as he read the message inside, his smile grew, and his eyes began to glow.

“Pack your things,” he commanded. “Father says we’re to come right away.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may write about their trip to Germany at some point.  
> (I don't know how obvious it is, but in case you couldn't tell, I ship these two so hard. Sorry not sorry!)


End file.
